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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29759295">Symphony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Song/pseuds/Raven_Song'>Raven_Song</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hannibal Fanfics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Classical Music, Composing, Dark Will Graham, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter doesn't know how to ask for what he wants, Hannibal Lecter in Love, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Inspired by Music, M/M, Manipulation, Minuet, Miscommunication, Murder Husbands, No murder in the fic, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Post-Time Skip, Sassy Will Graham, So he manipulates Will, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Cannibal, Will Graham plays piano, domestic idiots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:40:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29759295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Song/pseuds/Raven_Song</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While living together after the Fall, Hannibal discovers that Will has been hiding a secret talent: he can play piano. Entranced by the music, Hannibal decides he must hear Will play again, and he will do anything to make that happen.</p><p>Post-Fall classical music fic</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hannibal Fanfics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2221860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sonata</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The symphonic structure is a four movement structure. The first movement is a sonata, the second movement slow and lyrical, the third movement is a dance, and the fourth and final movement is generally a bright and fantastic piece in a rondo form. I have named the chapters of this story after the symphonic movements.</p><p>This fic came about because ever since I saw the upright piano in Will's house in Wolf Trap, I decided that he must know at least a little. I will accept any excuse I can find to write about classical music, and I hope I've done it in a way that you don't have to be a musician to enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Will wakes, the house is eerily silent. </p>
<p>It grips him with cold claws, sinking into his flesh until it feels as though his very blood has been turned to ice. He can’t hear Hannibal in the kitchen, an experience he has become accustomed to in the weeks since their dramatic showdown with the Dragon. Worry pricks at the edges of his mind as he slips out of bed. The floor is cold under his feet and he hisses softly, searching for a robe to throw on while being mindful of his injuries. He’s still healing, and he’ll never hear the end of it from Hannibal if he tears out his stitches on accident. He doesn't dwell on his heart beating a little faster, his steps more hurried than they would be normally. The worry pulses in his chest with every beat of his heart: wrong, wrong, wrong. The house is never this quiet.</p>
<p>After their several weeks at sea, Will has become attuned to Hannibal. It was a gradual change, the kind you only notice when it’s in its final stage. It’s as though they were living their lives to a secret melody only they could hear, following the swells of strings and the steady rhythm of invisible percussion, Will and Hannibal have moved through their new life in perfect tandem. An orchestra of waves and wind and sky painting the backdrop of their slow, strange dance.</p>
<p>This newer dance was the continuation of their slow tango, bringing them closer with every note. A courtship borne of blood and betrayal. If this were an opera, they would find themselves accepting the truth of their situation, leaving their old lives behind to find their happiness together. At last.</p>
<p>But their song didn’t end when they finally reached the safe house in Cuba. It merely modulated and changed tempo. Will had once wondered if he and Hannibal would survive separation. The answer to that question had been whispered in his mind as they fell through the salt air, an echo of a conversation with Bedelia: <i>can’t live with him, can’t live without him.</i> Yet here Will is, living with Hannibal in a shockingly accurate depiction of domestic bliss. </p>
<p><i>Murder husbands, together at last,</i> he muses. Freddie Lounds would have a field day if she knew.</p>
<p>The thought of the intrepid journalist sends a fresh wave of concern through Will’s mind. They haven’t even been here a month. Could Freddie really be so talented at sniffing out a good story like a pig with truffles? Was Jack or Alana finally on their trail? <i>Did they take Hannibal away from me?</i></p>
<p>Will glances at Hannibal’s bedroom door, which is ajar. Inside, he can see the dark curtains and the warm silk of the bedding. A toned down version of Hannibal’s room in Baltimore. There’s no sign of the man. The worry and nausea crescendo inside of Will’s mind. <i>Where is he?</i></p>
<p>“Hannibal,” Will calls, his voice echoing sharply on the tiled floors. </p>
<p>There is no answer.</p>
<p>Heart thundering in his ears, he bolts down the stairs, hoping for the smallest indication of where the man is. “Hannibal!” Desperation tinges his voice, sounding white and shrill to Will. </p>
<p>He gets his answer when he enters the dining room in the shape of a handwritten note placed at his setting. Will recognizes Hannibal’s elegant cursive right away. Some of the tension in his chest releases, and Will is able to take a slow breath before he reaches out and picks up the note.</p>
<p>
  <i>Will,<br/>
I’m sorry to vanish without warning, but you were sleeping soundly and I could not bear waking you. I have gone into town to purchase groceries and visit the chemist. While we’re healing well, it is evident that our supplies are dwindling rapidly. I promise that I will return in the early afternoon.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>There is a breakfast scramble for you in the fridge, you need only reheat it. Remember to take your medication, and as your physician, I must ask that you rest. Your wounds are not yet fully healed. Strenuous activity is ill advised. Feel free to read, explore the woods, or remain in bed. I will be back as soon as I can.<br/>
Yours, Hannibal</i>
</p>
<p>The panic in Will’s chest flickers and dies. He grips the back of the nearest chair, needing the support as relief overwhelms him. Hannibal is okay, he’s just out shopping. He’s going to come back, to come home to Will. With the knowledge that Hannibal is safe, Will can make a proper start to his day.</p>
<p>He shuffles into the kitchen to make coffee and heat up his breakfast. Glancing at the clock, Will’s fingers flex against the seam of his jeans. A nervous tick from his childhood. It’s not even nine o’clock. The idea of being without Hannibal for so long clutches painfully at his heart, and for a disorienting moment, he is back at the cliff, falling into the frigid maw of the Atlantic. Terrified of being alone, of losing Hannibal again and scrabbling for him blindly in the growing dark.</p>
<p>The microwave beeps, jolting Will back. He shakes his head in the hope it will shake loose his rational mind. Grounding. He needs to ground. Hannibal’s clock exercise comes back to him, and despite the trauma that accompanies the memory, Will reaches for it with both hands, latching onto any fragment of stability.</p>
<p>He flips over the paper, reaching for the pen that Hannibal had used to write the note. Will draws a circle, numbering the clock face and drawing the hands. This time, there is no fever. No encephalitis. The clock is normal, and he is going to be okay. Even so, Will feels the need to say the words aloud in the silence of their home.</p>
<p>“My name is Will Graham. It’s 8:17 AM, I’m at our safehouse in Cuba, and Hannibal is going to come home.” The anxiety in his mind quiets, satiated by the words. With that out of the way, he digs into the meal with vigor, hoping that the food will hide the hollow feeling the words create in his head. </p>
<p>After his breakfast and coffee, Will showers and dresses without fanfare. The clothes are nice, finer than anything he would buy for himself, but still within his usual style. Evidently, Hannibal isn’t pushing Will beyond his limits with fashion just yet. </p>
<p>Once he’s dressed, Will heads downstairs again and searches for a book. He brushes his fingers over the spines on the shelf until he finds one that sounds intriguing. He was surprised, initially, at the combination of classics and contemporary thrillers. He suspects that the latter were chosen especially for him. </p>
<p>Will finds a chair next to the windows with decent lighting and settles down. The Dan Brown novel is riveting from the start. It could be a coincidence that Hannibal owned a thriller, but then again the entire plot is based around Dante. A marriage of their two favorite genres, an odd yet compelling combination. A smile lights up Will’s face. It could be a metaphor for themselves, and the fist of anxiety around Will’s heart loosens its grip. He is sucked into the story, hungrily reading without any concern for the passage of time. </p>
<p>When he puts the book down, it’s just past eleven. He still has time before Hannibal returns. Although it’s nearing time for lunch, he feels no need to prepare food. Why would he when he lives with a master chef? Anything Will feels comfortable cooking pales in comparison to the elegance of Hannibal’s menu. He’ll be home soon enough, and Will is no stranger to long hours with little food. His childhood was a simple one, and even as an adult, Will had retained the habit of eating only when he absolutely had to. </p>
<p>As he wanders through the ground floor of the house, Will ducks into Hannibal’s study, curious. It’s a fairly large room with a window taking up the entirety of the exterior wall. Bright and airy, the perfect place for Hannibal’s art and calligraphy. The rug on the floor is an authentic Persian; the map on the wall of Hannibal’s beloved Florence is rendered in exquisite detail.</p>
<p>Will hasn’t spent much time in here, knowing that it’s primarily Hannibal’s space. Of all the rooms in their new home, this one reminds him the most of Hannibal’s old office in Baltimore. A beautiful vintage writing desk with stacks of creamy paper stands against the wall, a collection of fountain pens on the shelf next to it. There are more bookshelves in here, and judging by the titles, these cater more to Hannibal’s professions: books of anatomy and psychology that Will recognizes line the shelves interspersed with medical titles he is less familiar with.</p>
<p>What draws Will’s eye most, though, is the beautiful grand piano at the far wall. Its glossy black lid propped up slightly, to better let the sound escape. A warm note shines in the air, and Will is surprised to discover his own finger on the key. He looks around, overcome with the odd sensation that he isn’t supposed to be in here. </p>
<p><i>Don’t be ridiculous,</i> Will chides himself. <i>It’s not like I’m going through his clothes.</i> He’s not a child, sneaking around where he shouldn’t. He is Hannibal’s partner, his equal.</p>
<p>The good doctor will be gone for a while, so Will allows himself to slowly sit down at the bench and stare at the beautiful black and white keys.</p>
<p>It’s been a long time since he played, and an even longer time since he had the pleasure of playing on a properly tuned piano. His beat-up old upright in Wolf Trap had been a find at an antique store. He had always meant to refurbish it, to call in a tuner, and fix it up, but his job at the FBI had taken up most of his time for projects. He lifts his hands to the keys, arranges his fingers, and gently presses down.</p>
<p>A chord rings out into the empty house, startling in its suddenness. D minor, both melancholic and sweet. Will takes a deep breath, eyes shut against the memories that flood back from his childhood. There was one piece in particular he remembered loving for its simplicity.</p>
<p>If Hannibal were here, Will would be ashamed of his technique, tarnished from lack of use like old steel strings. But Hannibal isn’t here, and despite himself, Will really does miss playing piano and coaxing the melodies from the strings. He wants to feel the easy concentration again, wants to weave the design of a composer like he weaves together the thinking of murderers and psychopaths.</p>
<p><i>Might as well,</i> he reasons. When will he get another chance like this? He readjusts his hands into the correct position and begins to play.</p>
<p>The melody is a fragile thing, high and delicate. Will is surprised how much he remembers, the notes flowing out with growing confidence. </p>
<p>Generally speaking, the music of the Baroque is too ostentatious for Will. He prefers simplicity and elegance over ornamentation. Scarlatti’s sonata is Baroque with less frills. He first learned the piece when he was thirteen rummaging through his music teacher’s sheet music. Something about it, the melody in its loneliness spoke to Will. It’s gratifying to know that it is just as beautiful to him now, when he no longer feels alone.</p>
<p>The music flows, and Will flows with it. He’s not entirely sure when, but somewhere in his performance he closes his eyes and lets muscle memory guide him through the piece’s conclusion. A conviction he rarely feels fills him, a confidence he only knows when he is making music or fishing. When the last few notes ring out, he’s surprised to find his breath catch in his throat. Emotions and music are intrinsically tied together, Will knows this. Even so, he’s dangerously close to crying. Will lowers the fall board gently, reverentially, and struggles to swallow the emotions welling dangerously.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you play.” Will whirls around to find Hannibal observing him from the doorway. His hands drop to his lap, clenching into fists as Will realizes that he has been caught out.</p>
<p>“I played as a kid. It was something I could throw myself into without the social expectations other extracurriculars had.” The urge to hide is overwhelming, but Will owes Hannibal honesty. After all, this is a new life for both of them. One that was born in blood and salt water.</p>
<p>Hannibal’s lips quirk in what can generously be described as a smile. “Music is a language in and of itself. A form of communication beyond words and their inherent limitations. Many of us who find difficulty expressing our desires and fears are able to do so through music.”</p>
<p>Will notes that Hannibal has included himself in this category, and he latches onto the prospect of altering the course of this conversation away from himself.</p>
<p>“Is that why you play?” he asks. Hannibal steps into the room, a hand coming up to brush lovingly over the glossy wood of the piano lid.</p>
<p>“I learned piano when I was a young boy at my mother’s insistence. After my family died, I found in music a reprieve from my grief. Words failed me; music never did. I have never lost my love of it in all its forms, be that the symphony, the opera, or even my own compositions.” Hannibal’s eyes find Will’s for the briefest moment before Will looks away. The emotions behind Hannibal’s eyes are too much for Will to bear; love and loss and longing all tangled together in a Gordian knot. He can still feel the weight of Hannibal’s gaze against his cheek. </p>
<p>“It has been some time since I was inspired to compose. The last piece was after you sent Matthew Brown to kill me.” Guilt and shame flood through Will. He hadn’t regretted it at the time, but the idea of losing Hannibal now hurts in a way Will could never have anticipated.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he says simply. </p>
<p>“You needn’t be. As is often the case, you were the impetus for my creation. It’s only a shame that you never got to hear the piece. It was a lovely thing.”</p>
<p>“You can always play it for me. I haven’t heard you play much, either.” </p>
<p>“I’ll gladly play for you, Will. Though I must warn you, the piece was intended for harpsichord. It will be  different on a new instrument.”</p>
<p>Will almost snorts. As if that would make it any less beautiful.</p>
<p>“I look forward to it.” Hannibal cocks his head, those dark eyes appraising Will.</p>
<p>“In this new life, I find myself surrounded by new inspiration. I will compose a new piece, one meant for this journey that stretches before us.” His voice slides, taking on a warm, resonant undercurrent. “A piece for you and I, alone. Something only we share and understand.”</p>
<p>There’s a heat to the words that settles just behind the wide curving scar on Will’s stomach. The riot of emotions and memories drags him to his feet, nearly tripping over himself to get away from the piano.</p>
<p>“I look forward to it.” He pauses. “So, what’s for lunch?” Hannibal sighs, a small huff of breath that could mean any number of things. Just like that, the raw vulnerability is gone, hidden once more behind a mask of serenity.</p>
<p>“I have procured the ingredients for a simple soup,” he tells Will. “Would you care to sous chef?”</p>
<p>“I’d love to.” They leave the study behind, the piano gleaming with promise in the noon sun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Adagio</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter's title <i>adagio</i> is a tempo marking that means slowly.</p>
<p>Thank you as always for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The discussion about Will’s venturing into the study doesn’t resurface for two weeks, for which he is incredibly grateful. He feels uncomfortable with this side of himself; he’s kept it buried for so long that to allow it out into the world is a truly terrifying notion. </p>
<p>He’s built a persona over his life, one that keeps him distanced from the people around him. It’s a necessary boundary that keeps his empathy at a manageable level, and though it can be lonely at times, Will knows he’s better off for it. His glasses, his carefully cultivated rudeness, and bruske manner pushes most people away, only the ones he really cares about can get past the mask. Alana, Beverly, Abigail, and Molly have seen the closest approximation of Will’s vulnerability, but even they have never seen the full extent. Only Hannibal has been tenacious, no, <i>insidious</i> enough to worm his way through the ring fort of Will’s personality to witness all of him.</p>
<p>Music is a part of this defense for Will. Perhaps it was his father’s attitude: that music is for the radio when you’re working. Will’s father never would’ve considered listening to music for pleasure or attending a live performance— not like they had the money even if he had wanted to. Music is, to Will, a secret love affair. Something he can only indulge in when he is utterly alone. There’s an intimacy to playing music, where the performer becomes a vessel for emotion and something beyond. The idea that the first person to witness Will’s vulnerability when he plays is Hannibal terrifies him even more. </p>
<p>Hannibal, who is refined in all aspects of his life and surrounds himself with the most beautiful things, couldn’t possibly appreciate the stilted playing of a man who hasn’t touched a piano in years. It would be a sensation akin to listening to an elementary school band plod their way through a rendition of America the Beautiful. Will refuses to assault Hannibal’s ears with his mediocre piano skills. He’s caused the man enough pain.</p>
<p>It’s over a meal of delightfully succulent porchetta that Hannibal finally broaches the subject. Will is thoroughly distracted by the way the pork melts in his mouth and the burst of garlic and herbs that coats his tongue when Hannibal breaks the appreciative silence.</p>
<p>“How are your injuries today?” Will rolls his shoulders, cautiously testing his range of motion. He often feels like an old door; his joints stiff and creaking in protest with movement. Given the amount of times his right shoulder has been stabbed or shot, it would be naive to believe he wouldn’t have any pain or resistance from the web of scar tissue. Today, though, Will’s body is being kind to him. The pain is minimal, more discomfort than anything else.</p>
<p>“Fine. My shoulder is probably never going to heal properly, but that’s due to repeated injuries. My cheek is doing better, though. Doesn’t hurt to eat anymore.” </p>
<p>The stitches are long gone, as is the risk of infection. Hannibal, ever prepared, had stocked all of his safe houses with medical supplies, so they haven’t wanted for antiseptic or painkillers. Their convalescence has been slow but steady, and both are pleased with the progress.</p>
<p>“That’s good to hear,” Hannibal folds his hands together, appraising Will over them. Will raises an eyebrow in response but doesn’t speak, lifting his fork to his mouth for another bite. He doesn’t miss the way Hannibal’s eyes track the motion, and it sends a thrum of satisfaction through him. “I had thought to ask if you would be willing to do some physical therapy exercises.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s probably a good idea. I have enough rotator cuff issues as it is.” Hannibal doesn’t comment on the attempt at humor, he merely nods in agreement.</p>
<p>“It will facilitate healing and ensure that our injuries won’t prevent us from any <i>activities.</i>” Will almost chokes on his food. He’s known that Hannibal loves him for a while, long before he ever asked Bedelia. In spite of that, the subtle flirtation still takes him by surprise. He didn’t help Hannibal kill Dolarhyde and throw them off a cliff out of only friendship, though, so he fixes his companion with a wry smile.</p>
<p>“What sort of activities are you referring to, Doctor?”</p>
<p>Hannibal’s reaction is small, easily missed if one doesn’t know the good doctor as well as Will does: a slow blink and the slightest flare of his nostrils. An attempt at calm? When Hannibal speaks, it is with a decidedly neutral tone. </p>
<p>“I assume that you will want to fish, and I find myself longing to play music again.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Will says dumbly. Hannibal tilts his head a fraction, amusement flickering over his face.</p>
<p>“What is it, Will?”</p>
<p>“That’s just not what I expected for you to say.” He fixes his gaze at his plate unable to meet Hannibal’s gaze.</p>
<p>“If there are other activities you wish to pursue—”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Will rushes out. “It’s fine. I’m sure some music will lighten up the house. I look forward to hearing you play again.”</p>
<p>Something shifts on Hannibal’s face like the shadow of emotion, there and gone. Hannibal takes a bite of his meal.</p>
<p>“It is a shame that we don’t have a harpsichord. I prefer them greatly to the piano. The music feels alive, and arrives like experience, sudden and entire. Pianos are like memories.” Will barks out a laugh. </p>
<p>“Well, a brand new harpsichord would be a dead giveaway. You know that Alana found you last time because of your fancy wine and truffles?”</p>
<p>“<i>Tartufi bianchi</i> and Bâtard-Montrachet. Betrayed by good taste.” It takes a considerable effort not to roll his eyes.</p>
<p>“Forgive me if I don’t share your taste for the extravagant, Hannibal. I’m perfectly content with a simple life.”</p>
<p>“Music is extravagance?” </p>
<p>“It can be. Live performances were never my scene, and we were too poor to get tickets, anyway. Dad listened to the radio, and we had a couple of cassette tapes of popular songs from when my dad was a kid but that’s it.”</p>
<p>Will sets his utensils down, intuition telling him this conversation is headed into the realm of their unofficial therapy talks so many years before. They’ve come full circle. Hannibal’s gaze is even and calm like the cool kiss of shade on a hot summer’s day against Will’s cheeks. He fights the urge to squirm in his seat.</p>
<p>“Is that why you only dared to play the piano when I was gone? Afraid to be caught in excess, anticipating a lecture from your childhood about spending your time on less frivolous tasks?”</p>
<p>“My dad wasn’t a bad man. He tried his best, but he came from a world where you kept your head down and worked hard. Fishing, repairing boat motors, doing your own plumbing and electrical. He respected handymen more than musicians.” Hannibal’s fingertips drum a steady rhythm on the arm of his chair, his face shadowed in thought.</p>
<p>“You aren’t in that life anymore, Will. A butterfly cannot concern itself with the restrictions it faced as a caterpillar, or else it will never learn to trust its wings and fly. Money is no longer a concern. We’re safe, and in the unlikely situation that the FBI tracks us here, we will have plenty of warning. The house will be empty, and we will be long gone, should the need arise.” Hannibal brushes an imaginary speck of dust off of the table, relieving Will of the pressure of his gaze. “There will be plenty of time in our new life for us to pursue the things we could not with the obligations of our employment.”</p>
<p>Will swallows sharply. “Like music,” he says flatly, plucking the unsaid words from the space between them. Hannibal inclines his head.</p>
<p>“Like music.”</p>
<p>“You like music too, though, don’t you Hannibal? I remember Alana telling me that you composed a little.”</p>
<p>“Yes, for the harpsichord more so than the theremin. The theremin is a psychological instrument, played by manipulating the electric field, but never touching.”</p>
<p>“Manipulation isn’t enough for a composer, though,” Will points out. “You wore that plastic suit for a reason. You don’t distance yourself from your actions like some. You desire to not only manipulate, but to form. Your crime scenes often looked more like paintings or sculptures than actual crime scenes.”</p>
<p>“There is a certain satisfaction one derives from creating art with one’s hands. To feel the medium beneath our fingertips lends a sense of intimacy with the art. Touch is one of the most important senses we have developed. Touch gives life meaning.”</p>
<p>“Bedelia said something similar in our sessions together.”</p>
<p>“Did she?” There’s no ignoring the jealous tinge to Hannibal’s voice or the shadow in his eyes. This is a subject they have been avoiding since the fall. An unspoken pact to avoid the subjects that bring them pain. No talking about Molly and Walter, no talking about Bedelia, and no talking about Abigail. These are wounds not fully healed, and Will knows he isn’t going to salt the wounds and aggravate Hannibal. He waves a hand awkwardly, as if brushing the conversation, and the tension, away.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter. Um, you were talking about composing. Do you compose often? It seems like something you would do. Spending hours at the harpsichord, slaving away at a new piece of music. I imagine inspiration comes easy to you. So much material to choose from, both in classical literature and your own crime scenes.” Hannibal latches onto the lifeline with his usual social grace, and Will feels tension flood out of him. They’ll talk about Bedelia eventually, when they’re ready to.</p>
<p>“I find that to be the case, yes. There has been an adjustment to piano, I admit.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but you’re nothing if not adaptable.”</p>
<p>“As are you, Will,” Hannibal counters, maroon eyes flashing. Will swallows again, feeling the heat in his face. </p>
<p>This dance is new to him, his steps tentative as he learns how to navigate their relationship. The urge to back off surges within him, that old fear breathing down the nape of his neck. <i>Dangerous,</i> it whispers. <i>Predator.</i> Will has given into that fear; he’s done it many times in the years since he first met Hannibal. There’s no need to hide now, though, no need to fight the urges he’s kept down for so long. He lifts his gaze to meet Hannibal’s.</p>
<p>“When it comes to you, it certainly seems like I am.” He watches the comment land and continues with a wry smirk. “I’ve killed for you and with you, I’ve willingly eaten long pig at your table, travelled across an ocean just to see you again. Never would have done any of it before I met you.”</p>
<p>The man across from him reaches for his wine and lifts it to his lips. Hannibal’s movement is robotic, carefully calculated to appear calm. Will knows him better than that, though, and he can see the effort it takes him to keep his hands steady and his movements easy.</p>
<p>“Are those all the changes I’ve persuaded you to adapt to, Will?” Will lifts his own glass and sips at the dark liquid, letting the wine wash over his tongue before he answers.</p>
<p>“No. There’s a great deal more I’ve adapted to because of you, you know that. You were the spark that lit the fire of my Becoming, Hannibal.”</p>
<p>Hannibal snaps into motion at the sound of his name on Will’s lips, towering over him in the space of a heartbeat. Will looks up at Hannibal, appreciating his wild eyes, his silvery hair, the slight flex of the muscles of his hands as he forces himself not to touch. He’s still afraid of pushing Will too far, of ruining this blossom of heat they share. </p>
<p>He doesn’t need to worry anymore.</p>
<p>Will is already standing, already twining his fingers through the hair at Hannibal’s nape. He feels the sigh of his own name against his cheeks, and then, their lips touch and everything else fades. This is better than killing the Dragon, better than seeing Hannibal at the Uffizi all those years ago. This is what has been missing from Will’s life. </p>
<p>He feels Hannibal’s elegant hand sliding up his spine, pulling Will impossibly closer. </p>
<p>This is where he is meant to be.</p>
<p>Hannibal is too graceful to fumble through the house, and Will allows himself to be led blindly to the bedroom. Neither of them move to turn on the light, afraid that the clarity of sight will ruin this precious moment. Will sighs and leans into Hannibal’s touch as he deftly undoes the buttons on his shirt and bares his skin to the cool evening air. Will’s impatience and Hannibal’s doctor’s precision means that they disrobe efficiently.</p>
<p>Sparks light across Will’s arms where Hannibal strokes them. He’s never been this sensitive to touch, never felt as though he will burst from every tender kiss, every gentle brush of fingertips across the scar on his stomach. Hannibal, too, seems overwhelmed by this. Three years in prison will do that to a man. Will is grateful, now, that they are in darkness. He doesn’t think he would survive seeing the devotion in Hannibal’s eyes just yet, even though he knows it’s there. Touch is intense enough. This needs to last, to be savored.</p>
<p>Stepping out of Hannibal’s embrace, Will pulls him down onto the bed with him, reveling at the weight of him. Hannibal is propping himself up on his elbows, not allowing his whole weight to crush Will into the mattress. Something pierces his heart with the knowledge that his lover is holding back, and he drags Hannibal down for a filthy kiss, satisfaction exploding through him at Hannibal’s low moan that rumbles through his chest where it’s pressed to Will’s.</p>
<p>Too soon, the kiss becomes soft and tender. Hannibal seems determined to take things gently and slow, a proper courtship. Will is far too impatient for that. They’ve waited long enough. He sinks his teeth into the meat of Hannibal’s shoulder and the man groans his approval, shuddering. Will can taste the salt and iron tang of blood on his tongue as he presses a kiss below Hannibal’s ear.</p>
<p>“I’m not china, darlin’. You won’t break me.” Hannibal growls in reply and lets himself take what he has been denied for years.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After, they lie entangled in the sheets. It’s impossible to tell where Will ends and Hannibal begins, but that thought doesn’t frighten Will anymore. He welcomes it, feeling the steady rise and fall of Hannibal’s chest beneath his fingertips. </p>
<p>“What are you thinking of, mylimasis?” The foreign syllables stir that warmth again, and Will smiles against Hannibal’s skin.</p>
<p>“I once said that I’ve never known myself as well as I know myself when I’m with you. I’m finding that to be the truth.” Hannibal’s fingers brush over the skin of his back, light, yet searing with heat. Strange, how the hands that have brought him so much pain can be so gentle now.</p>
<p>“And yet you still seek to hide from me. You needn’t do that, Will, not anymore. We have no secrets, no lies or manipulations in this life. <i>Carte blanche.”</i></p>
<p>“It’s difficult to unlearn habits. We both have worn many masks. It’s... strange to know that they’re no longer needed.”</p>
<p>“You aren’t alone, mylimasis, not anymore. I’m here, beside you. You don’t have to wear a mask with me.” He lifts his head to look Hannibal in the eye.</p>
<p>“Are you really going to ruin the afterglow with therapy?” Hannibal’s rumbling laugh vibrates through Will’s bones.</p>
<p>“As you said, habits are difficult to unlearn. I will endeavour to stop the therapeutic ambush though.” The soothing rhythm of Hannibal’s touch pulls Will down into the warm blanket of sleep, his nightmares incapable of reaching him in Hannibal’s arms. He is barely conscious when he hears the low murmur of his lover’s voice. “I will hear you play for me again, my love, when you are ready.” </p>
<p>Sleep takes Will gently under, and Hannibal’s promise is lost in the ocean of his dreams.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you're interested in porchetta yourself, here's a <a href="https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/porchetta">recipe.</a></p>
<p>Come say hi on <a href="https://twitter.com/katerina_sings">twitter.</a></p>
<p>Comments and kudos are always appreciated and let me know if I should publish more Hannibal fics!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Minuet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here it is! The penultimate chapter. This one was probably my favorite to write, if only for the fact that I love it when Hannibal tries to manipulate Will only to find out he's too obtuse to pick up the hints. Finally, friends, we get to meet the Murder Husbands' new dog!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His relationship with Hannibal changes everything and nothing after that night. Their routine stays the same, but now there is permission to touch and to covet. More often than not, Will wakes to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and an elaborate breakfast waiting for him. He finds his lover in the kitchen and greets him by wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s waist and planting a kiss on his cheek. </p>
<p>There are more casual displays of intimacy between them now: Will placing a hand on Hannibal’s lower back as he moves past him in the kitchen, Hannibal’s fingers carding through Will’s curls as they sit in the evenings and read together on the sofa. The nightmares that have plagued Will all his life become less and less frequent, and even when they do resurface, Hannibal is there to hold Will and soothe him until he falls back asleep.</p>
<p>Prison for three years has not been kind to Hannibal. He confesses to Will that the only physical contact he had was when he was strapped into a straightjacket and muzzled. The thought of Hannibal, his beautiful monster being muzzled and caged fills Will with rage and sorrow. The only reason Hannibal had turned himself in was because he wanted Will to know where to find him. He makes sure to dote on Hannibal even more after that talk, brushing kisses to his knuckles as they cook together, taking his hand on their daily excursions outside, massaging his shoulders after he’s spent a long day working in the study.</p>
<p>It takes him another week to realize it. For the first time in his life, Will Graham is truly happy.</p>
<p>Hannibal seems happier, too. He hums to himself as he works, composing even when he isn’t at his desk. Will is astounded at the amount of compositions he manages to turn out. It seems like it’s one a week, now. The sheet music is scattered all over the house. On the dining table, next to the coffee pot, in Will’s favorite armchair. He even finds one on his bedside table when he reaches for a glass of water in the night. It isn’t like Hannibal to be so careless with his things, but maybe Will is rubbing off on him. He’s the reason that they stay in bed later than Hannibal prefers to get up, after all. Maybe this is just Hannibal relaxing into this new life, their new life the only way he knows how. Or perhaps Doctor Hannibal Lecter is simply so caught up in the art he’s creating that everything else fades into the background.</p>
<p>Will doesn’t comment on the music; he doesn’t want to try and dissect this new change in Hannibal’s behavior. Their therapy days are behind them, and Will knows he’s still afraid that this life will come crashing down in another ploy by the FBI to capture him. Instead, Will dutifully tidies up after Hannibal and returns the sheet music to the study. Every so often, he catches a peculiar gleam in his lover’s eye, but it’s gone so fast he’s not entirely sure it wasn’t just in his imagination.</p>
<p>“I finished a composition today,” Hannibal tells him over breakfast. “It’s an intricate piece, but not so difficult to play, even without much practice. I was inspired by the thought of time stretching before me and after me, infinitely expanding even as I move through it.” He looks eager, waiting for Will’s input with wide eyes. It’s truly incredible how different he is without the person suit. Never in a million years did Will think he would see Hannibal eager for praise, or himself so eager to give it to him.</p>
<p>“Like the teacup,” Will notes. Hannibal inclines his head in reply, still waiting for more. What more can Will give him? He isn’t sure, so he offers reassurance. “I’m sure it’s perfect, Hannibal. I can’t wait to hear you play it.” </p>
<p>That look again, something heavy that flickers across Hannibal’s face as fast as lightning. Will blinks and it has vanished, replaced by Hannibal’s easy smile.</p>
<p>“Of course, mylimasis, I’m always happy to play for you.” Will hums in acknowledgement, still bewildered by whatever it is that Hannibal is keeping from him. He’ll tell him when he’s good and ready, or at least Will hopes he will. They’ve come too far to keep secrets from each other.</p>
<p>It takes him a long moment to realize that Hannibal is looking expectant, clearly waiting for an answer to a question Will hadn’t heard.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I got stuck in my own head. What did you say?” Hannibal smiles, indulgent, and repeats himself.</p>
<p>“I had asked if you wanted to get a dog soon.” Immediately, Will perks up like a tulip in water.</p>
<p>“Really? I mean, yeah I would. I just thought—”</p>
<p>“You thought that I wouldn’t want a dog,” Hannibal finishes for him. Will rubs the back of his neck, eyes skittering away from Hannibal’s face.</p>
<p>“Kind of. You’re so neat and organized, and dogs are kind of a mess, and it just didn’t really seem like a dog would fit your lifestyle.”</p>
<p>“Darling, do you really think that after going to prison for three years just so you knew where I was I would draw the line at a pet? My love is far too deep for that. I’ve seen how you are with your pack. There’s an easy peace they bring you. I wish to bring that into this life—<i>our</i> life together. You have not asked me to stop hunting, how can I possibly keep you from adopting a dog?” Will reaches for Hannibal’s hand, twining their fingers together.</p>
<p>“You’re sure?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure. I have been looking into the local shelters. As you so often say, you have a penchant for collecting strays. I had considered a pure breed, but I didn’t think you would appreciate spending so much on a dog when there are plenty in the shelters awaiting loving homes.” Vision swimming with the beginnings of tears, Will gives Hannibal’s hand a squeeze. He doesn’t have the words to describe his gratitude, but needs to say something to show Hannibal just how much this means to him.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he says earnestly and lets Hannibal brush a kiss across his knuckles.</p>
<p>“And I love you, mylimasis.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They pick up the dog the next day. Will is practically vibrating with excitement, his leg bouncing the entire drive. Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind. They’ve checked every site and news channel to see if the FBI and that abominable reporter have followed their trail. Everything on Tattlecrime is insubstantial, Freddie reporting on all of the tips that lead exactly nowhere. They haven’t been declared dead, not yet, but the FBI is scaling back their search efforts, unable to justify the cost. It assuages Will’s fears about being recognized considerably, and now, he has much more exciting things to think about.</p>
<p>The shelter is alive with the sounds of animals. Barks and meows and even some squacks of birds greet them as they step inside. Will feels like his heart is a bird trapped in the cage of his ribs, fluttering excitement against his bones until he thinks they might break. </p>
<p>He and Hannibal are led into the kennel, and the familiar sounds of dogs swell into a roar. Most of these dogs are mutts, the employee explains. Street dogs that have been brought in by well-meaning tourists. Will didn’t need to be told that. He can see it in their eyes, that wary look as they size him up. He offers his palm to a German Shepherd mix who’s braver than the rest, cold nose poking out through the chain link. The dog snuffles at his hand before turning away, uninterested. Hannibal is smiling at Will, not even pretending to disguise it. It’s almost uncomfortable how intensely Hannibal looks at him, and Will can feel himself getting a little defensive.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“It’s good to see you happy, my dear.” Will flashes a grin in response before continuing down the row of kennels searching for his new dog.</p>
<p>He knows as soon as he lays eyes on her. She’s a beautiful creature, her black coat glossy and her mismatched eyes bright and curious. It’s obvious she has a little poodle in her by the curls in her coat, but Will wouldn’t be surprised if there was some pit bull or boxer blood in there too. She’s inquisitive, watching Will and Hannibal for a long moment before moving closer to them.</p>
<p>“Hi, girl,” Will whispers to her as she sniffs his hand. The dog decides she likes what she smells, her tail wagging happily as she looks up at Will’s face. Even Hannibal seems rather taken with her, murmuring something about her coloring reminding him of some painting he had seen once. Will doesn’t really listen, distracted by the dog rolling onto her back and offering her belly. A hollow place in his chest fills with warmth, and he knows that she’s coming home with them.</p>
<p>Hannibal doesn’t need to hear him say it. He turns to the employee and explains that they’ll adopt this dog. When they get her on the leash and out of the kennel, she’s wagging her tail so hard her entire back half is wiggling back and forth. Will laughs when she nearly falls over in her effort to meet Hannibal, and he seems honestly pleased with her innocent enthusiasm. Hannibal gives her a scratch behind her ears with the same fond smile he saves for Will.</p>
<p>Who’d have guessed it? Hannibal Lecter is good with dogs.</p>
<p>They talk with the employee, look through the dog’s medical files and see which vaccinations she’s due for. She sits all the while, looking up at Hannibal and Will with big eyes. The paperwork goes surprisingly smoothly, and a short while later they’re all in the car heading back to the house.</p>
<p>“She’s got some poodle in her,” Will tells Hannibal without preamble. “They don’t shed as much as other breeds, so I think your fancy wardrobe is safe.”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t something you needed to consider, Will.”</p>
<p>“I know, but this way we’ll spend less time cleaning dog hair off of the furniture.” Hannibal chuckles quietly, guiding their car around a curve in the road before glancing in the mirror to check up on the dog. She’s curled up in the trunk, snoozing quietly. She doesn’t seem like the type to get carsick. Another blessing.</p>
<p>“You’ll train her?” Hannibal asks. Will nods, drumming his fingers on his thigh.</p>
<p>“Yeah, nothing too exciting to start. Sit, stay, teach her her name. It’s overwhelming to move to a new place, I don’t want to overstimulate her on her first day. Once she gets the basics down, we can work up to more complicated commands.” Hannibal nods, casting a brief glance at Will’s face before turning back to the road.</p>
<p>“Have you thought about a name for her?”</p>
<p>“How about Encephalitis?” Hannibal shoots him a disapproving look.</p>
<p>“Will,” Hannibal warns. Will laughs, always enjoying drawing emotions out of Hannibal.</p>
<p>“I’m kidding, Hannibal. I’m not going to name the dog Encephalitis. Too many syllables.” He looks unconvinced, and Will can’t stop grinning. Christ, Hannibal is fun to tease. </p>
<p>“I’ve always been fond of the classics,” Hannibal tells him. “Persephone, perhaps?” Will stares at him, incredulous.</p>
<p>“We’re not naming her Persephone, Hannibal. All of my dogs had pretty standard names: Winston, Buster, Harley, Daisy. Persephone sounds too regal, too pompous. Next thing you’re going to tell me we should call her Clytemnestra, or something.” </p>
<p>“Certainly not,” Hannibal sniffs. “Her actions were abominable. I wouldn’t want to burden any creature with that particular legacy.” It takes all of Will’s effort not to roll his eyes.</p>
<p>They pull up into the driveway, their discussion lulling as Will coaxes their newest family member out of the car and through the house. As soon as she’s inside, she wants to smell everything, exploring her new environment with zeal. They watch her go, tracking her fluffy tail through the hall and into the living room. She does a little spin and sits, panting up at Will and Hannibal with those beautiful eyes of hers, one honeyed brown, the other palest blue.</p>
<p>Will kneels next to her, ruffling the fur of her scruff as he tries to land on a name for her. He won’t admit it, but Hannibal does have a point. This dog isn’t a simple, common thing. She’s unique, beautiful, elegant in a wild kind of way. He glances at the coffee table, looking for any inspiration. He distinctly remembers leaving his book there last night before he went to bed: <i>Paradise Lost,</i> of all things. The book is there, but there’s a sheaf of papers next to it that catches Will’s eye. He picks it up, careful to keep the pages in order. </p>
<p>It’s another composition of Hannibal’s. Will hadn’t noticed it there that morning, but then again he’s not at his best in the early hours when sleep clings to him like shadows. He reads the words at the top, written in Hannibal’s ridiculously perfect penmanship. </p>
<p>Minuet in Ab Major. He’s surprised to realize that he actually knows what that means. A slow dance, probably French, if the name is anything to go by. Will glances from the music to the dog, who cocks her head at him, confused.</p>
<p>“Will? What is it?” Hannibal is standing next to the sofa, his dark eyes searching for something in Will’s face.</p>
<p>“What about Minuet?”</p>
<p>“The dance?”</p>
<p>“No. What if we name our dog Minuet? It’s not too fancy, but not a plain name, either. Minnie’s a cute nickname.” A smile slowly spreads across Hannibal’s face, and Will feels a wash of relief.<br/>“Minuet is a perfect name for her.” Will pets Minnie with the hand not holding the sheet music.</p>
<p>“What do you think? Are you a Minuet?” Her tail thumps against the ground twice. “I’ll take that as a yes.” </p>
<p>Will stands and hands Hannibal the music. “Thanks for the inspiration, darlin’. I’d better get started on teaching Minnie her name.” He presses a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek before he and the dog vanish into the other room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hannibal stares down at the music in his hands. Emotions war inside of him, though he daren’t let it show on his face. Will saw the music, saw the slow, stately dance and named their dog Minuet. It is a charming name for their new family member, he can’t deny that, but his beloved had missed the point entirely. In this new life, Hannibal is determined to let Will choose his own path, keeping his machinations and manipulations to a minimum and with Will’s knowing consent. His patience is being tested now, though, as Will seems determined to misunderstand Hannibal’s new musical obsession. </p>
<p>Leaving the music around the house had been a ploy to get Will to play again. Hannibal has even gone on shopping trips he didn’t actually need to to give his beloved the chance to play without an audience. It doesn’t seem as though his attempts to hear Will play piano again are overt enough. </p>
<p>He sighs and takes the music into his study, gently placing it with the rest of his compositions. As always, Hannibal is unable to predict Will’s actions. He simply has to try harder to make him understand.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, thank you so much for reading! A minuet is described as a slow and stately dance popular in the 18th century. This particular symphonic piece was popularized by Joseph Haydn (1732-1809), but this movement can also be a scherzo (a lighthearted 'joke').</p>
<p>Come say hi on <a href="https://twitter.com/katerina_sings">twitter.</a></p>
<p>Comments and kudos are much appreciated. See you next week for the grande finale!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rondo Allegro</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise! The final chapter is being uploaded early because I'm going to be stuck in a car on my actual upload day. Rondo is a form often used for the final symphonic movement. Rondo form has one theme that repeats and alternates with a contrasting theme in a A-B-A-C-A-D-A pattern. Allegro is a tempo marking indicating a quick and lively tempo.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Minuet settles in nicely. She’s a sweet creature with the bright eyed innocence of a child and the enthusiasm to match. It takes hardly any time for her to learn her name, and by the end of that first night, Will taught her how to sit and lay down. Over the next few days, she picks up on commands quickly. It pleases Hannibal to see her and Will romping in the yard, or to watch the sunset play over her dark fur when they settle in for the evening.</p>
<p>It surprises Hannibal how fond he is of Minuet. The fact that she doesn’t seem to shed much certainly plays a factor, but he finds he genuinely loves her. She brings a new dynamic into their household and provides both laughter and comfort. It’s easier now to understand why Will loves his dogs so much. There is something to be said for the bond between dog and master, something Hannibal has never indulged in before. Now, he wonders if he might’ve been missing out.</p>
<p>Will, too, is changing. He prepares all of her food by hand, a process Hannibal is honored to witness. It is so rare to see him take charge in the kitchen. He even teaches Hannibal how to prepare Minuet’s meals— how to measure out the proportions of chicken and rice. It’s not a terribly difficult recipe, and yet, Hannibal finds his mind wandering. The soothing cadence of Will’s voice and his clever hands pull his focus away. </p>
<p>Will is absolutely radiant as he speaks, shining like an icon wrought in gold. He is blinding in his beauty, and not for the first time, Hannibal wonders at his luck to have Will by his side. It takes considerable effort to focus on his words and not the angle of his jaw, or the soft hollow in his throat. Although Hannibal knows he can be free with his affection for Will, there is still a time and a place. He will worship him later. For now, he can bask in his presence.</p>
<p>The dog food is quickly prepared, and Minuet sits patiently while Will gingerly sets the bowl down. At his command, she leaps forward and devours her meal with gusto. Hannibal is reminded of how Will appreciates the food he places before him and smiles. Like father, like daughter.</p>
<p>He watches Will tidy up, brow furrowing slightly as he stares at the spot between Will’s shoulder blades. Hannibal has yet to implement his next scheme to get Will to play the piano again. The plan to leave compositions in strategic locations through the house has failed, evidently too subtle a hint. He cannot be too overt, though. Will knows him well enough to see through those gestures much like he had with Hannibal’s manipulation and framing him for the crimes of the Chesapeake Ripper. No, Hannibal needs to find the balance between subtlety and conspicuous influence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will notices immediately that Hannibal is hiding something from him. It stings to feel that this man he has left his life for still feels the need to keep secrets. He lets it go for several days, hoping it’s only a matter of Hannibal finding the courage to tell him. He doesn’t. By the fourth day, Will can feel Hannibal’s secret as though it’s a physical being clinging to him wherever he goes. It’s maddening, and he decides he’s had enough.</p>
<p>The next warm evening, Will sets the last glass back in the cabinet, Hannibal drying his hands on a towel. He carries his secret well, like he does with all of the things he hides, but it is still visible to Will. There’s a tension in Hannibal’s frame that gives it away. </p>
<p>Will leans back on the countertop, folding his arms across his chest. “Did you ever go dancing?” Hannibal looks up at him, amusement curling at the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>“Often, when I was a young man. My aunt had insisted on dance lessons. It’s a useful skill for a young aristocrat to have.”</p>
<p>“And recently?”</p>
<p>“In Florence, Bedelia and I were invited to a gala. It was a lovely event, spoiled only by Professor Sogliato and his arrogant assumptions.”</p>
<p>Will swallows down the bile that always accompanies mention of Bedelia Du Maurier. <i>Focus on the task at hand.</i> “I never learned how to dance. We were too poor to pay for lessons, and it didn’t seem as relevant a skill for a kid like me. Unless you count line dancing they made us do in school, I guess.”</p>
<p>Hannibal blinks slowly, almost catlike in his disdain. “I am certain you will be an excellent dancer, if you receive proper instruction.”</p>
<p>“From you?”</p>
<p>“If you’d like.”</p>
<p>“I’d like that a lot,” Will confesses, stepping out of the kitchen and into the vast living room. “Will you teach me now?”</p>
<p>“For you, dear Will, anything.” Hannibal follows, stopping only at the record player where he searches through his collection until he alights on the desired record. He places it with care, lowering the needle before he meets Will in the center of the room. The soft brush of the needle on the record fills the air before the first chord is played. “I shall teach you to waltz, I think. It should be easy enough for you to pick up the steps.” Will snorts, doubtful, but follows Hannibal’s lead regardless.</p>
<p>There’s a merry twinkle in Hannibal’s eyes as he arranges Will’s hands, adjusting them both into the correct stance. His hands burn where they touch Will, a spark of arousal neither of them can deny. Both of them know, though, that now isn’t the time.</p>
<p>Hannibal’s instructions are soft, yet commanding as he guides Will through the rudimentary steps, and his corrections are spoken warmly as they both become more comfortable with the dance. It’s only when he feels confident enough that he can keep this going without Hannibal’s guidance that Will speaks.</p>
<p>“I know you’ve been keeping something from me, Hannibal.” He watches the words land like a fist. “You’re not very subtle when you’re plotting something, you know. I thought we promised that we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other any more.”</p>
<p>Hannibal swallows, a little bashful at being caught out. Will keeps his words calm and even, but that doesn’t mask the hurt in his eyes. </p>
<p>Of course Hannibal can’t hide from his precious mongoose. He should have known better than to believe his subterfuge would succeed. Will is far too clever, and sees clearly that which Hannibal tries to hide. It’s one of the many reasons Hannibal loves him so.</p>
<p>“Well?” Will prompts.</p>
<p>“It’s possible that I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”</p>
<p>“Alright, that’s a start. What haven’t you been truthful about? I promise I’m not going to abandon you, no matter what it is.” The look Will gets is skeptical, not that he can fault Hannibal for that. He smiles at him, hoping that his relaxed demeanor will help soothe any doubts Hannibal harbors.</p>
<p>“A couple months ago I went to purchase groceries in town,” Hannibal begins, his eyes staring somewhere past Will’s left ear. <i>He’s nervous,</i> Will realizes. He’s never seen Hannibal nervous before. What the fuck is going on?</p>
<p>“Yeah?” he asks gently, encouraging Hannibal to keep talking.</p>
<p>“Of all the things I anticipated on my return home, the sound of Scarlatti from the study was not on that list. You never cease to amaze me, Will, and though I had never entertained the thought you might be musically inclined, I was nonetheless entranced. Hearing my hidden desires in your music was as if I had taken Odysseus’ place tied to the mast, revelling in the sirens’ song.” Will snorts.</p>
<p>“The sirens are exceptional musicians. I’m mediocre at best.”</p>
<p>“Oh my dear Will. You are far more capable than you realize.” The praise makes him blush. Now Will’s the one to avert his gaze.</p>
<p>“Yeah, sure.”</p>
<p>“I found your performance powerful. Perhaps lacking polish, but still striking in your passion. Ever since, I’ve been guiding you to repeat the events of that day. It brings me such joy to hear you play, Will.”</p>
<p>Will stares at Hannibal, mind reeling. Hannibal enjoys hearing him play. He’d thought that Hannibal would be a stickler for technique, providing, to his thinking, polite corrections. That’s not it at all. Will has read this situation entirely wrong. Hannibal is so in love with Will that he not only likes hearing Will play, he wants <i>more.</i></p>
<p>Why has he had such a hard time talking about it? He’s a loquacious man, and Will’s never known Hannibal to shy away from a difficult topic. He tries harder to protect Will’s feelings now in this new life of theirs, but that doesn’t explain why he’s been so reserved. The man has been creating massive amounts of music, after all.</p>
<p>
  <i>The sheet music.</i>
</p>
<p>Will shakes his head in disbelief, reaching up to turn Hannibal’s gaze back to his own. “Is this why you’ve been leaving your compositions all over the house?” The slight pink that tints Hannibal’s cheeks is answer enough. Will can’t help but laugh softly. “Oh my god, Hannibal. You could’ve just asked me.”</p>
<p>“You are so often defensive when it comes to your childhood. It appeared to me that music was another of the subjects you’d rather avoid.”</p>
<p>Will shifts his hand to cradle Hannibal’s face, allowing all of the love he feels to suffuse the gesture with warmth. “Hannibal, I promise I won’t go anywhere if you ask me about my childhood. You can’t scare me off that easily. No more secrets, okay? Please just ask me next time.” Hannibal nods and steals a kiss. It’s an apology. It’s a promise.</p>
<p>“I will. Forgive me, mylimasis, I still cannot believe this is real. I find myself over-cautious with you. I should know by now you are made of sturdier stuff.”</p>
<p>“This is real. I’m real.” Will opens his eyes and glares at Hannibal in mock affront. “If I promise to play for you, will you stop leaving your music all over the goddamn house?” Hannibal’s laugh is a quiet, breathless thing.</p>
<p>“Anything for you, Will,” Hannibal murmurs against his lips. Will hums softly, leaning into Hannibal as he captures his lips again. The relief that floods through him is a mighty thing, easing all of his anxieties of the past weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hannibal is greeted at the door by Will, surprised to find himself pulled in for a kiss as intense as it is short.</p>
<p>“Hello, mylimasis. I wasn’t gone long.” </p>
<p>Will’s smile is bright, notes of triumph shining in his eyes. “I know, but I still couldn’t wait for you to get home. I have a surprise for you.” </p>
<p>Will helps him put away the groceries, though it’s a miracle he manages not to drop anything; he’s practically vibrating with excitement. It only serves to pique Hannibal’s interest more. What can his darling boy possibly have planned for him?</p>
<p>Once everything is in its proper place Will takes him by the hand to the study, sitting him at his desk. Hannibal immediately spots the sheet music, eyes widening a fraction as he realizes what Will’s surprise entails.</p>
<p>“I’ve been practicing for a few weeks— whenever you’re out running errands. I’m finally ready, I think. It’s not like I’m a professional by any standard, but I’m comfortable showing you.” He takes his seat at the piano bench, lovely fingers splaying over the keys. Hannibal sucks in a breath. After months of waiting, he will finally get to hear Will play for him. Will rolls his shoulders, gives Hannibal another dazzling grin, and plays the first chord.</p>
<p>It is triumphant, the way he plays. Hannibal recognizes the piece, of course. It’s one of his own compositions, written with their victory over the Great Red Dragon in mind. Despite his warning, Will plays it masterfully, surpassing the vision Hannibal had of his piece. It is rare to see Will so relaxed, his body swaying as his fingertips dance across the black and white keys with such finesse. </p>
<p>Hannibal closes his eyes, letting the music wash over him as he draws his memory of that night to the surface. The crashing of the surf far below, the shattering of the glass as it pierces first Hannibal and then the bottle of wine. The discordant shock of Will getting stabbed in the face and thrown bodily by Dolarhyde, the low rumble of encouragement as Will pulls the knife from his flesh and sinks it into the meat of their attacker’s leg. Hannibal watches the memory with reverence. This is Will’s Becoming, <i>their</i> Becoming. A marriage vow sealed in blood and breath. </p>
<p>The music crescendos, a great swell of fanfare and power as they fight in tandem. Hannibal tears out Dolarhyde’s throat with a vicious bite (the music staccato and harsh as teeth rip through flesh) and Will delivers the final blow, a gutting nearly identical to the wound Hannibal had once dealt him (a legato section, here, a reveal of might and control unseen before as Will ends a life). In the wake of the Dragon’s death, the music mellows slightly, echoing the intimate moment they shared before they fell out of their old lives and into this new one,together. It is tender, powerful, and too soon, gone. Will lets the final chord ring out before turning to look at Hannibal.</p>
<p>Hannibal knows there are tears on his cheeks but makes no move to hide them. Will has seen his soul and bared his own in response. A few tears are trivial. </p>
<p>“Oh, Hannibal,” Will murmurs as he leaves the piano behind and moves to hold Hannibal.</p>
<p>“You are magnificent, Will.”</p>
<p>“It was your composition, I only played it.”</p>
<p>“You played it masterfully, mylimasis. I think you truly are a siren.” Will’s laugh is a soft puff of air against Hannibal’s cheek and he shivers slightly. He leans back, taking in the shy elation on his lover’s face. “You are unparalleled among men. Your playing took me back to that night—the night when we left the world behind.”</p>
<p>“The night I finally chose you,” Will states with a smile, cradling Hannibal’s face in his hands. “I hope I did it justice.”</p>
<p>Hannibal doesn’t reply, finding that his words fail him. Instead, he turns Will’s hand over and places a kiss on his palm. Judging by the radiance of his lover’s smile, the gesture is understood. Something small and wriggling shoves its way between them, and Will laughs, ruffling Minuet’s fur. Evidently, she doesn’t enjoy being excluded.</p>
<p>“Forgive me, Minuet. Your father had a surprise for me. I’ll let him go so you can be together.” Hannibal makes to stand but is halted by Will’s fingers winding through his own.</p>
<p>“She just wants to cuddle,” he explains, blue eyes shining up at him. “Give me a minute to put everything away and we can go to the living room.” Minuet barks her agreement and Hannibal cannot help but smile. It only takes a few moments to fold down the music stand and close the piano lid. Hannibal follows behind Will and Minuet, who keeps rubbing against Will’s ankles and nearly tripping him as she asks for him to love on her.</p>
<p>Hannibal pauses in the doorway of the study, looking back at the music neatly placed at the top of the stack on his desk. He glances at the title: <i>Per amorem et laborem</i> before turning off the light and closing the door. He cannot keep his family waiting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading the ending as much as I enjoyed writing it.</p>
<p>The translation for the Latin at the end of the fic is 'by love and by labor', which felt appropriate for the climactic fight with the Red Dragon.</p>
<p>Come say hi on <a href="https://twitter.com/katerina_sings">twitter!</a></p>
<p>Kudos and comments are my lifeblood. I read all of them and appreciate every single one!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! </p><p>If you want to know what piece Will plays you can find it <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Z6eLzOcLjM">here.</a></p><p>The book Will reads is, of course, Inferno by Dan Brown. It's a fantastic mystery thriller that follows Robert Langdon, the main character from Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code. I highly recommend it!</p><p>Come say hi on <a href="https://twitter.com/katerina_sings">twitter.</a></p><p>Comments and kudos are always appreciated and let me know if I should publish more Hannibal fics!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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